A Traumatic Flashback
by Elijah-ships-johnlock
Summary: John and Sherlock are about to get intimate, but Sherlock has a horrifying flashback from high school. TW sexual assault/abuse, rape, and pstd.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Trigger warning to those with ptsd from rape or sexual abuse/assault. This story is dark and sad and not very pretty but I felt it needed to be written.**

John and Sherlock ran to Sherlock's bedroom after an intriguing conversation in their sitting room which involved John confessing his love for Sherlock, Sherlock reciprocating those feelings, and then a very long kiss between the two of them.

Sherlock closed the door to his bedroom and John kissed him firmly, pushing him down onto the bed.

Sherlock had been excited before, but now he was suddenly uneasy and uncomfortable. John seemed to notice. Sherlock tried to conceal it, but as John began to unbutton Sherlock's shirt, Sherlock had a horrific flashback.

...

He'd snuck out to a party because some kids from school told him he should come. It was a party with all the seniors and juniors from their school and somehow Sherlock and his friends, who had just started freshman year were going to some senior's house. Their social standing would soar! They'd be kings of their class!

There was a girl, who looked about nineteen. Sherlock had forgotten her name. She should've already graduated, he remembered, but she got held back. She'd spotted him from across a mass of people but as she made her way toward him, his friends had dragged him off somewhere.

Sherlock had never drank before. At first he said no, but his friends insisted. He figured no harm could come from one or two…or four or five.

Sherlock's memory of that night was blurred and foggy. The girl from earlier had come onto him. He rebuffed her; girls weren't his area. But she kept pursuing him. She wouldn't let him go.

She'd dragged him upstairs to someone's bedroom. She pushed him down onto the bed and he was too drunk to get himself up. She closed the door and locked it.

Sherlock remembered everything clearly after that. Terrifyingly clearly. She'd overpowered him easily; he was weak and scrawny anyway and being drunk didn't help. He could barely move.

"No…stop…" he slurred.

She didn't listen, pulling off both their clothes and touching him below his waist.

"Stop…please…" he slurred, writhing beneath her. "I don't… wanna…please…I don want to…"

"Of course you want to," she said. "You've got a boner. You want to."

"No…_please_…get off me!"

She didn't listen to him. He struggled underneath her as she positioned herself on top of him and put a pillow over his face to muffle his screams while she raped him. He cried and thrashed around on the bed trying to free himself but he couldn't get her off of him.

"Sherlock…" said a voice.

Sherlock thrashed and screamed, tears pouring down his face. "No! Stop! Please stop! No! No! NO!"

"Sherlock, snap out of it!" said John.

"NO! STOP! PLEASE!" screamed Sherlock.

"Sherlock…Sherlock, you're okay, you're alright. No one's hurting you, Sherlock."

Sherlock heard a familiar voice. John… Sherlock's eyes opened and he was back in 221 Baker Street. Back with John, who was sitting beside him, holding his hand tightly.

"John…?" Sherlock said, a faint crack in his voice.

John wiped some of the tears from Sherlock's cheek with the sleeve of his jumper. He kissed Sherlock softly on the cheek. "Are you alright?" he asked. "You got all shaky and then you were screaming and thrashing around and I didn't know what to do."

…When the girl had finished abusing him, she got up, pulled her clothes on and left. She left him alone, bruises on his face and arms, tears streaming down his cheeks…_he was fourteen years old_…**still a child**.…

Sherlock took a deep breath. "I'm okay…" he said softly.

"Are you sure?" asked John. "Here, come on, I'll make you some tea." He took Sherlock by the hand and brought him to the living room. He set Sherlock down in his chair and went into the kitchen to turn the kettle on. When he came back with their tea, he saw Sherlock curled up on the chair crying. John set the tea down on the desk and held Sherlock gently in his arms while he cried.

"Shh…" whispered John. "Shh…you're okay, I'm here…" He held Sherlock in his arms for the rest of the night, watching over him after Sherlock fell asleep


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay guys, here's that second chapter you wanted. Hope you like it. I don't think I'll write anymore chapters for this fic; I think It's probably best just as these two. Reviews are welcome and much appreciated!**

It had been a few weeks since Sherlock's flashback. John and Sherlock kept it at first base after which; John didn't want to make Sherlock uncomfortable or give him another of whatever it was that had happened that night. Sherlock hadn't mentioned the incident at all, and John hadn't asked.

Sometimes Sherlock would act strangely. Albeit, the man himself was an odd individual, but these were things out of even Sherlock's norm.

For one thing, he was extremely jumpy. Any loud noises would make him practically jump out of his skin; John had accidentally dropped a spoon on the floor and Sherlock jumped, knocking over half of his lab equipment.

His smoking and usage of nicotine patches had gotten out of hand again, too. He had at least three patches on at all times and still would smoke several times throughout the day.

Sherlock had kept himself superlatively busy over the past few weeks; he was constantly doing something, an experiment, a case, anything. He'd even done laundry, which John had never seen Sherlock do.

This morning, Sherlock did something that made John realise what was going on.

Lestrade had come by the flat with a case regarding a girl who had been sexually assaulted by her boyfriend. Before Lestrade had even given him specifics, Sherlock had told him that he didn't want the case, which wasn't unusual; Sherlock turned down cases all the time.

Lestrade had began to ask Sherlock another question and Sherlock flipped out at him.

"I told you I don't want the case!" he yelled.

"Alright, alright, I just wanted to ask you - "

"I'm not taking the bloody case Lestrade; stop asking!" he shouted.

John stared at his face for a moment, wondering why he'd gotten so quick-tempered all of a sudden. John noticed the way the light was reflecting off Sherlock's eyes; were those tears? Sherlock turned around and stormed out of the room to his bedroom.

Something clicked and John understood now.

"Lestrade, I think you should go," he said softly.

Lestrade, who did not understand what had just happened, nodded slowly and stood to leave. John stood as well and closed the door behind Lestrade before following Sherlock to his bedroom. He heard Sherlock crying softly, the sound muffled through the door.

"Sherlock?" asked John.

"I'm fine," snapped Sherlock.

"I know you're not," John said softly. "Can I come in?"

Sherlock didn't answer, so John turned the knob. When he didn't hear any protests from Sherlock, he opened it all the way to see Sherlock curled up in the corner of his room, tears running down his face. John approached him slowly and sat on the floor beside him. He wiped the detective's tears from his cheek gently.

"Sherlock, we need to talk," said John.

Sherlock clenched his trembling hands into fists. "I'm fine," he insisted stubbornly.

"Sherlock," John said softly. "You can talk to me." he said. "You can trust me, you know that, right?" Sherlock bit his lip until it bled, fighting back more tears.

"Sherlock?" asked John hesitantly. "Did someone…did someone sexually abuse you?"

Sherlock burst into hysterical sobbing, and John held Sherlock's head to his chest, letting him cry into his shirt. "Shh…it's okay, you're alright…let it out," said John comfortingly. When Sherlock had finally stopped crying enough to speak, he told John about what had happened, about the party he and his friends went to and the girl who'd raped him.

"Did you ever tell anyone?" asked John.

"My parents," said Sherlock. "They pressed charges for rape but she was found 'not guilty'." He told John about how kids at school used to bully him because "he was lucky to have sex with her" or because "boys can't get raped by girls". His parents had put him in therapy, but that didn't help him either. He eventually just learned how to bottle everything up inside himself.

John held Sherlock in his arms tightly, running a hand though his curly brown hair. "I love you," he said softly.

"I love you too," Sherlock replied.

John planted a soft kiss on Sherlock's cheek. "You can talk to me whenever you need to, Sherlock," he said. "Okay?"

Sherlock nodded, nestling his head against John's chest. John held Sherlock protectively in his arms.


End file.
